ONE POEM – James Ducat

My friend the tarot reader repeats,
but she is a little drunk,
translucent fingers unfurling,
while shade, levered by branches,

TWO POEMS – Daniel Bennett

We toured the backstreets of the old town,
inside the bright cinema of midday sun.
In the plaza, edgy restaurateurs   

offered squid ink and pickled meat,
and the households of grand families
competed in a war of bougainvillea. 

ONE POEM – Stephen House

we keep walking
maybe fearful of touching
in front of others
unable to be completely who we are
two men with love
happily growing older
together

TWO POEMS – Seán Kennedy

A pipe at the edge of Kilcock’s new estate
pushes translucent waste into the canal;
the colourless essence of the town’s inhabitants
perhaps, infused with aloe vera
as most things are these days;

Foxglove – Kathryn Tann

You caught me, Foxglove, with your upright colour. You turned me from the river thinking I had been alone. I liked your pale and speckled belly, and the tiny fragile hairs guarding your mouth.

My Response – Lucy Zhang

In response to your suicide letter, I write that I now order a bowl of vegetable ramen from the local Izakaya whose waitlist fills up twenty minutes before its five pm opening.

ONE POEM – Keli Foster

I swam in the Gulf of Thailand with you.
I held you, small as a kumquat, in my own dark, small sea.

ONE POEM – Teodora Lalova

I often think of telling you
There is something wrong with time here.
I’m not sure whether I age faster or, quite the contrary –
Once we’re introduced again, I’ll be annoying in my youth.

TWO POEMS – James Carroll

She’s pulling up weeds from the flowerbed
And then starts feeling one tug back,
Wrapping her water grip and dragging her
Through the claggy earth.

TWO POEMS – Niamh Gallagher

I look at my bright and blotchy cheeks in the mirror with blurry-eyed fascination, but not for too long because I have crying to do.

Leaving – Yin F Lim

Glossy lips, upturned in a cheesy grin. This is what I see when I think about the morning I left my country. The lips of a Ronald McDonald statue, painted red to match its garish hair and its clown’s outfit. Broad lips stretched into a smile that seemed much too bright under soulless eyes. I…

ONE POEM – Lauren Bender

points for you if you are boss of the building, every lock
warm at your fingertips, every door’s soft click
yours as it shuts, every window with your face
reflected in it.